Forget me knots
by Belledonner
Summary: Edward and Roy find themselves caught up in a game, a messed up sick twisted game, a game where there can only be one winner. the cost of losing is life, the price of winning is everything. will you play? *the chapters involve gore, not for the squeamish*
1. scars on life

Warning:involves tourcher, gore and mutilation of beloved charecters- not for the light harted squimish typ, because most likely this wont hjave the happyest ending...

I won't give a summary because that gives away the plot, and though i may be blond, i ma not actually that dumb.

DISCLAIMER: i do no own Full Metal Alchemist or the characters

within...although owning Roy might not be so bad...Hm bad

xx, enjoy.

Belledonner.

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Eyes.

Yes.

Eyes dark.

Wait…Dark eyes.

That's better.

Dark eyes worried.

Nope…Worried dark eyes.

Yay! Coherency!

the body cackled madly.

Wait! Why are the dark eyes worried? Why are they so dark? Why are there

eyes?

The questions tumbled through the mind. They worried It greatly, but could not find the answers as those obsidian eyes block itsvision and clouded the beings mind with their intensity.

Him?Her?

Male? Female?More questions.

Too many questions! the mind screamed, Its vision went static black round the edges as Its panic took control of his/her battered body and lifted arms that looked vaguely familiar but frighteningly different to Its eyes. They moved to protect the face and wiled eyes squeezed shut to keep out those piercing black eyes that where searing through Its chaotic soul.

Falling!

Falling fast!Changing!PAIN!ROY!

the mouth moaned loudly as phantom pain emerged

from all sides and It tried to curl in on Itself but found the

body trapped by smooth columns on either side. It squirmed and withered as pain wreaked havoc through a body already battered and broken.Its eyes opened wide suddenly as the pain intensified ten fold,Its body jerked up to sitting, Its head exploded into white hot pain quickly turned to the black of obsidian eyes as consciousness' fled from his/her body.FALLING!

General Roy Mustang stared down at the blond as she withered beneath his arms, her eyes fluttering and moving beneath heavy lids. Her moans of pain echoing through the high vaulted ceilings of the church they where held prisoner in, contrasting sharply with the manic grin slapped across her face, even in sleep she could not fight the madness and pain, her cackling laugh turning the warm spring day to grey and lifeless as the haunting noises ripped themselves from her pale gold throat. Her petite form turned too thin and her long hair spread behind her head in great knots, stuck to the blackened floor with her own drying blood, her clothes torn and filthy rags that hung limply off her body, and the screams that came from her inhuman.

The General understood the screams, anyone who laid an eye on her would see why too; her form was so pale and lifeless he wondered where all the blood came from, but it was there, pooling around her, soaking her cloths and staining once gold hair a dark, dirty red. It oozed sluggishly from the hundreds of deep gashes and cuts that littered her body, the deep red mixing with the yellowed puss leaking from too many wounds. The charred flesh of her only arm was covered in the puss, the stench arising from her poor body was almost too much to stand, he choked and gagged as the smell assaulted his senses, making his eyes water and run, his teeth ground together against the effort to vomit and he forced himself to breath through his locked jaw as he forced himself to ignore his own burning pain and refused to leave the abused blond to die, drowned by her own blood as she had spazzed beneath him. The only thing stopping her from drowning herself in her own blood was the generals shaking and bloodied arms pinning her too her back and his legs keeping hers on the ground.

She would never be the same, her mind too altered by the motherfuckers games, her body too beaten and changed to heal completely without aid, her personality warped by insomnia and hysterical pain, her identity stolen from her. And that was the worst part, Edward Elric would never recover from the change that had twisted her body and mind and taken and given till she was no longer male but female. Edward had been thrown completely into the insanity he had been balancing on for the weeks beforehand, his screams of agony had turned into her hysterical laughter after that, his glimpses of pain and true smiles of slight triumph had warped into her sadistic grins and smirks of pure loathing.

Roy mustang knew that he was not fine himself, his own body was scared by constant abuse and terrifying pain but if you where to look at them side by side (witch wasn't possible because Edward couldn't stand anymore) no one would take a second glance at the General before calling an ambulance for the skeleton of a blond beside him. Compared to her Roy mustang was healthy, a comparison to which Roy grimaced and shuddered at. And though this was horrifying, worse than anything they had done to her worse than the beatings she had laughed through, the change she had lost her sanity too, even worse than the raping they had forced her through. The worst was that they would not allow her to die. He could see it in her golden bloodshot eyes, she wished for death, and they wouldn't let her leave her misery behind. They healed her every week, every day when it was necessary, they had used Roy's thrice damned ring to heal her and bring her back from the edge of the void of death, and then they would use it to push her there again. The constant pain, blood and mad laughing had dulled Roy's senses, he still felt all the pain of daily lashings, beatings, the slicing of the knife as cut its way delicately through the layers of his skin, so slowly as it cut away the old scars in slivers, making raw bleeding new ones. But although it still hurt it was as though he didn't care anymore, his life was worth nothing compared to the young woman suffering so much more before him. Edward was clearly not sane. And although she had gone mad she had never once even murmured the secret they tortured her daily for, her strength of mind convinced Roy that there was still some shred of sanity left of the old Edward Elric. He had even seen it, that glimmer of intelligence and sanity hidden behind the hysteria and madness. Even heard it once; when their unnamed terrorists left them alone for days at a time with no food or water other than the bloodied body of a fallen calf. It was only a few short sentences, but those few words had given Roy strength and courage as the brittle young girl said them with conviction and sanity.

"Roy, I will never tell, I will never utter the words they want, even if only to spite them! These wounds will heal but they will always leave scars; forget me knots' in a time when I will wish to forget. We will escape! And show the world the danger of what they are doing! They will see our gruesome 'forget me knots' and shudder in realization! We will save them from themselves!"

And Roy believed

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review if you like it so I can Wright more!

Thanks!

Belledonner.


	2. Twisted rhymes

**Forget me knots**

chapter two

TWISTED RHYMES

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A/N: Thank you for your Review neco-alchemist!

For everyone who is confused this is actually my second try at this fic; the first version was un edited and scratchy, now I have a great beta to edit for me and slightly more thought out plot line! also in this chapter i am just explaining thing more before i start the real twisted plotline in the next chapter! i hope you will like it, i am kinda enjoying the idea of mind games watcha think?

I hope you enjoy it! A brief warning though; if you cant handle gore discripions and harsh language as well as insanity then please don read!

Haha now you cant say I didn't warn you now, can you?

If you like, read

If you don't.

Bugger off.

Thank you.

By the by; Edwards point of view. **The bolds are his insane thoughts** and the words in _italics are the sane thoughts_. Got it? Good I am toying with the idea of him hearing voices. Like it?

Disclaimer; I do not own Full Metal Alchemist nor do I claim to, I just have fun screwing the characters over!

Belledonner

* * *

Pain.

_Pain everywhere. Hurts._

**Weakling!**

_I know you can feel it too!_

**Enjoy the pain; it's all you'll taste for a long time!**

_You're mad._

_**I am you! You pathetic weakling!**_

_I AM NOT CRAZY!_

Manic laughter bubbled from a throat so dry and raw that blood splattered

across the floor as the laugh turned into hacking choughs that burned Edwards's larynx.

After a moment the hysterical slowed and the focus was internal again.

**Then why am I here?**

_I …I don't know._

**Because I am what you deserve, what your sins have made you!**

_Equivalent exchange._

**Yes! You took too much and left nothing for the lives you heartlessly destroyed!**

_But I didn't mean too! I was only doing what was best. What they asked me too do._

**You deliberately murdered them! You slaughtered them without remorse! And you would do It again…. and laugh as their blood wet your miserable face!**

_No! No, never! I would never! And to laugh would be to say that I didn't care! And I do!_

**You do. You care that they can no longer splurge your secret to the 'enemy'. And if you cannot sand to see their blood on your hands, then why do you accept the blood that comes from your own body so readily? You deserve the pain that god bestows on you!**

_No! I care for THEM! They died willingly!_

**No, those are the thoughts of the shit you are! Leading yourself to believe that they died willingly for you so that you won't have to deal with the guilt and grief! Do you honestly believe that they would die for you? That they would willingly give themselves to god so that you would be safe? If you truly think that then you are more of an idiot than I thought!**

_SHUT UP!_

**I will not until you see the truth!**

_I don't believe you!_

**But you do.**

_SHUT UP._

**Denial will not hold you pathetic head above the water for long! And when you drown in your own misery I will be there to laugh at your pain!**

_But they had a choice! They chose, not me!_

**But why did they choose? Why did they die?**

_Because they believe in me! They believe I was the better cause!_

**Believed in you. How could someone as strong and worthy as they were, love a stupid, ungrateful, pathetic little shit like you? You didn't even deserve to kiss the dirt they walked on let alone assume they believed in you and your idiotic ideals?**

The sanity in Edward fell silent.

The insanity rejoiced.

The loud cackling laughter that filled the hall was inhuman. Edwards eyes flew open, the insanity clearly writ across her face, the manic grin and fevered eyes told Roy that there was little left of the sanity he had seen little over eight days ago. Her body shook as the gut wrenching sounds ripped their way out of her blood stained mouth. The twisted and distorted laughter so close to a scream that his ears ached and eyes squeezed shut, attempting to block out the unholy sound the attempt was in vain as the sound seemed to echo through his mind and rattle his teeth at he gritted them against the urge to flee from the horrifying noise.

Then suddenly it stopped.

This frightened Roy more than the screaming because he knew what would come next.

Those piercing golden eyes darkened as the lids slid half closed and she rolled over and slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly began to drag herself across the floor, the sight was painful to watch and Roy fought the need to look away or even try to help her; his last attempt of help had earned him a bout of manic laughter and a forcible bite to his mangled fingers. And although his arms yearned to hold her and take her pain away he was incapable of such a feet as he was hung from the rafters, thick coiling wires dug into his wrists as they cut into his flesh and the blood dripped down his arms and congealed on his bear chest covered in lacerations and blistering burns caused by brands they had seared him with and the cigarettes they had used him as an ashtray for. He was forced to watch as the ragged blond dragged herself inch by inch across the blood caked floor towards the wall, his mind torn between revulsion and pity as he watched her grope around for something to pull herself forward with, and her single leg vainly attempted to push her forward. He watched as the slowly drying blood left a deep read trail behind her, like some sort of twisted red carpet that followed her as she made her way towards the wall.

The blood, a spreadable substance perfect in their nonexistent supplies to draw an array with. Even the simplest array could save them, but it was useless; his own hands mangled and tied above his head. The first item they took from him where his gloves, even though they where useless in the downpour they where captured under. Their captors where always careful to keep them tied and wrapped in cloth, and never had he seen a flame the whole _18 _god-damn months they had been here.

Ed was in no state to draw an array, her mind messed up enough that it would surprise Roy if she could draw a functioning one, and anyway, even if Edward had he mental capacity to draw one, her fingers would never function enough to do it. They where wrapped in fishing line, constricting movement and holding her fingers at unnatural angles. Wire curled around and cut into the flesh, in some places the skin had begun to grow over the taught wire that had never been changed from the beginning and which was holding her hand in a painful fist.

He gave a sigh of relief as she reached the wall, it turned into a groan as the slight movement disturbed his dislocated shoulder, the shooting white hot pain washed over his body and he began to sweat. He was vaguely aware of the worry of his other arm, which he hadn't felt since they had first tied him to hang from the rafters, but this was overwhelmed by the relief that he could not feel the pain it would undoubtedly be giving him if he could feel it. As the pain slowly gave way to the constant ach it had been for some time he turned his head to see Edward below him.

As he saw her it began to happen. It started softly and relaxed, then got louder and her voice became rawer and scratchier, as if each word was torn and coughed out of air in the hysterical state she was in... He could see even at this distance that it must be hurting her but if she felt it she paid no attention to it, she even seemed to welcome it as it wracked her body and forced her sanity further back into the depths of her disturbed mind.

She sang.

Her voice was as grotesque as the words she twisted through her chapped

lips.

She sang the words in a way no nursery rhyme should be sung; with madness and misery. The hysterical edge to her voice cutting through the manic emotion and turning the children's rhymes and turning it into grown men's nightmares. The moments she sang there was no trace of sanity and no hope in Roy as he was forced to listen.

"The Sandman's coming in his train of cars

With moonbeam windows and with wheels of stars

So hush you little ones and have no fear

The man-in-the-moon he is the engineer

The railroad track tis a moonbeam bright

That leads right up into the starry night

So put on you 'jamas and say your prayers."

Her cackles rose as her voice faded, a brief moment of remorse before the next twisted song.

"'Pussycat pussycat, where have you been?'

'I've been up to London to visit the Queen.'

'Pussycat pussycat, what did you dare?'

'I frightened a little mouse under her chair'

'MEOWW!'"

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AN: want more? Then review!

I am already finished the next chapter and am just getting my beautiful beta to edit it for me!

When its ready u will know!

Love bites and all that jazz

belledonner


	3. Professer Gwyther

Hello again!

This is a long chapter so I hope it makes up somewhat for the wait!

Ok its time for a little comp! If you can find the TWO MAJOR HINTS I dropped in this chapter then send me the answer and I will personally mention your name in the fic or even name a character after you (if your lucky and get it right on target!)

Also my beta did not edit this chap, so it probably has a few mistakes, i just wanted to get it up and i couldnt get hold of her...so please just side step my crappy spelling and grammar! For I cannot spell for canooldles (that is a word by the way)

Good luck!

Enjoy

Belledonner

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Heavy footsteps clunked leisurely across the floor towards its body, the owner, john Hleather, of the footsteps carried a number of things in one hand, they had never worked before and he didn't expect them to work now and he saw little point of using them as the creature just withered and insulted them as they abused its female body.

Its screams pierced his soul; if his god hadn't willed him through his savor and priest then he would never agree to this horror. And anyway it wasn't as if he was the one doing all those things, no that job was saved for one of the most vigil religious people he knew. Professor Gwyther.

He quickly placed the tools before the thing in the corner and grimaced as it swore at him and spat in his face. He wiped at the blood strained spit as it dribbled down his cheek.

He rushed towards the far wall, trying to get the maximum amount of space between himself and the crazed thing in the small church.

He almost grinned his relief as those heavy iron doors were pushed inwards, checking himself just in time as he remembered who was walking through the arch way, the doors opening to reveal a lady dressed in a dark green dress that hugged her curves and cut of mid thigh, its edges and hem embroidered in silver patterns that seemed to shift when she moved, with dark short sleeves witch hung of her shoulders. The deep emerald of the dress contrasted sharply against the pallor of her skin and the silver of her eyes. Masses of wiled white blond curls were piled on her head, spilling over and trailing over her shoulders and down her back.

She was more than beautiful and she knew it, the grace in witch she carried herself and the way her fetchers flowed from her large eyes and high cheekbones to the full of her lips and the gentle curve of her neck. But there was nothing gentle about her; there was a reason only madmen would lay a hand on her; the glint of wrath and chilling intelligence in her eye, the warning of danger in her light step, the menacing air that surrounded her, the sharp steel edge to her voice witch never held any sort of patience to anyone no matter their importance.

Gwyther strode towards the thing in the corner, briefly stopping to pic a few small objects from the floor. When she reached the transmuted body she lowered a hand to the female face and stoked the coarse dark hair, the body that was once Edward preened slightly to the touch.

John watched and suppressed a shudder, the mind that was attached to the tormented body was obviously torn; the personality changes and temper flares showed clearly that it was not whole. He still didn't understand why Gwyther would risk being that close to crazed thing, even as it continuously spat and snarled at her, she would still lay a hand on its head or speak to it with soft tones, that is, right before she lashed out and brought the beast to the edge of death once again.

There was a chuckle of horse laughter, one that was almost in comparison to creature. John looked again and saw brittle teeth latched to the almost translucent skin of Gwythers wrist.

"now, now cupcake," Gwyther crooned, john knew that voice, a voice that was always a warning of what was to come ever present in her voice but becoming thicker with condensing with her anger. "wouldn't you just love mummy to play with you again?" that sickly sweet tone brightening as she mentioned what she liked to call 'play time'.

The body that was once Edward bit down harder in response, Gwythers blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth.

"how about another fun game?" Gwyther brought her hand down hard across Edwards face, with force that belied her body and threw the pitiful body back against the wall.

"now stay still baby, wouldn't want you to get hurt now would I?" with that her other hand came down, this time throwing one of the objects she held.

Ed coughed blood, his one arm clawing at his ribs where the dart had pierced his lung, even with the shallow labored breathing; he still managed a harsh laugh. It seemed to john that he was incapable of screaming any more, now all he seemed to do was laugh and yell obscene riddles at them.

"ah ah ah, come on snookums, wouldn't want mummy to miss now would u? Now stop squirming!" another dart pierced through a rib, then another, and another. john heard the crack as the force of the dart shattered a rib only a few centimeters above the last dart. Only a few centimeters below a delicate neck.

"NO! nonono! Stop! You're killing her! Stop!"

Gwyther turned to meet the cold hard eyes of the once proud general, the source of the yell.

"Ooh, is baby awake too? And here I was thinking it was your nap time! And I went too all the trouble of stringing you up there too! Now now, don't struggle. That always ends in pain!" she pointed a finger at him and shook her head, her great mane of hair spinning and tumbling around her in a sick halo of white curls.

"Evil bitch! Is this not enough for you? If we where going to tell you something then we would have already said it under your vial games!" Roy wheezed, his head hanging forwards and restricting his breathing. " Are you not satisfied? Isn't this enough pain for you? Why wont you let us have peace? Why wont you let us die?"

" No, I will never be satisfied. I realized long ago that you wouldn't talk, but my higher ups said to keep trying, so I will. And that's not to say I don't enjoy it, that I get no satisfaction seeing you squirm beneath my instruments. Because I get much pleasure from it, baby."

"You get off on other peoples pain? Is that it? Because your brain is fucked up enough to be doing this for personal pleasure. You disgust me."

"Tisk tisk tisk" Gwyther clucked and reached behind her, groping at a wall fastening, " I wouldn't speak so lightly of that particular subject, darling. As the thing you so willing would give up your life for is barely human, and it seams we both get off on this, don't we Eddie poo?"

Edward growled behind her.

" well then." she growled back, "I think its time for you to go back to sleep then, baby flame."

And with that she yanked on the item behind her, a long rope attached to a pulley that kept mustang suspended 10m above the ground.

With a groan the pulley gave way and mustang fell. He didn't scream or yell, not even a moan escaped his lips as he crashed to the ground, a sickening thump as he bounced slightly. In that bounce john realized that mustangs arm was twisted beneath the side that was about to once again hit the hard floor.

He heard the crunch of bone, the slight whimper of pain and the loud resonating thud as his head hit the floor, Unconscious from the pain and impact. And though john heard it he failed to see it for he had clenched his eyes firmly shut.

A ripping noise echoed duly in the room after the deafening silence. It was accompanied by a laugh that couldn't be called sane and john forced himself to open his eyes and not to turn away as he watched Gwyther kneel before the battered body and grasped one of the darts and pull downward, dragging the skin and pushing the broken bone shards into soft lungs and thin skin. He continued to watch as blood flowed down from the hole and great bruises bloomed across once tanned skin, the internal bleeding pushing to the surface and slowly drowning punctured lungs. He Watched as the body moaned and coughed blood, her sole hand digging against the brick and tearing skin from bone in a bloodied mess, fingernails grating and snapping as they clawed at the floor. Watched as those tortured eyes squeezed shut when Gwyther grabbed a second dart and began dragging in the opposite direction, stretching the ribs apart and breaking them. Giving up on the darts that were now embedded between shards of broken ribs, Gwyther forcefully tore at the skin with perfectly manicured nails, dipping her pale fingers into the wound and squeezing her fist around the punctured lung, giggling uncontrollably when blood shot from the puncture under pressure and onto her collarbone.

Then a wheezing, gurgling laugh escaped from the bloodstained lips of the creature.

Gwyther, realizing the change, drew her fingers from the gaping hole in the side of Edward. John stared as Edward's eyes opened, seeming yet another shade darker since they had brought the young alchemist into captivity in the church. Those eyes stared at her own blood with wide eyes filled with madness, it dripped down those thin fingers of the one that brought so much pain, and congealed in a pool on her chest. Mad snickers choked through her labored breathing. Those wide frantic eyes too bright and clear, the manic grin plastered on her face leaked blood through rotting teeth and cracked lips, the tight skin tugging at the sores and cuts on her face, pulling them open again to bleed and join the trickle beginning to run down her neck and back.

With deft strokes Gwyther drew the array on Ed's stomach. With another swift movement she pulled a ring from her mountainous hair, pulling it onto her finger without hesitation that was usually shown before using the object –something Gwyther used to do, until she was driven to the edge by that same damn ring- then with a blinding light she touched her fingers to the array.

Edwards bones creaked and cracked, pulling and knitting together, cuts closing and turning to scars, the gaping hole in her side slowly growing together and over the mending ribs and lungs, the blood stopped flowing from the puncture and gashes that littered her body.

Not for the first time, john found himself wondering why they could not let them die. They were of no further use so what was the point on continuing this hopeless quest for an answer for a question nobody knew?

* * *

Nobody came.

Three agonizing days had passed since they had been left here by 'the profits minions' as they liked to call themselves, no food, no water, left to hang by the wire they had yet again suspended him from. Roy had fought for consciousness, a losing battle against his sleep-deprived body. A week pulse throbbed in his ears, his aching head hanging bowed before him, his legs uselessly dangling above the floor, his arms twisted back and forced above his head to were his wrists where wrapped in the wire. The hurt of his body had numbed and lessened, the last thing those people had done was to heal Roy and Edward their cracked and broken bones, the black eyes and split lips had been healed, their broken and crushed teeth and pulled fingernails had been reassembled into their rightful places and their blood had been washed from the floor. The only thing that had been left were the scars, his own and Edwards. From this angle he could only see the scars on his chest, but what he saw was enough to make his stomach churn unpleasantly. They criss crossed across his chest, large angry, puckered pink scars that ran over his once toned and muscular body, their course being disrupted by others; some shallow grazes, the iron poles they had beaten him with where not meant to cut but to crush bone and bruise skin. Others; small dots that belied their depth, from those times when they had used him in some sick game of human darts. More of them where long, thin and wrapped around his torso, these from the whips they had used liberally on his back and torso.

Roy's mind drifted, ed had stopped singing after she had, in a very animate version of twinkle twinkle little star, smashed her head into the brick wall behind her and effectively knocked herself unconscious.

That was a little relief to Roy, not having his ears abused constantly by the obscenely loud and sickly demented nursery rhymes. But he still had to listen to the whispery labored sound of his own breathing as it wheezed through his lips and down his parched tongue to his lungs, the feeling was like drinking sandpaper or breathing in sherbet, it stung his larynx and burnt his lungs. He could hear Ed breathing across the room, making much the same noises as Roy, her chest rising shallowly with every intake and shuddering, sinking as the air left her chest, ribs protruding sharply through the too pale and much too thin skin.

But when his ears heard another noise he instinctively cringed.

The noise was a grating of metal on wood, the creaking of unused hinges. Of a heavy door being pushed open.

The door swung wide, and Roy closed his eyes, trying to gather every ounce of will power left in his defeated body.

But the sound was not followed by the usual heavy booted and swaggering footsteps he was all to familiar with, nor the slap of high heeled steps from Gwyther, the odd thing was they were running, light footsteps that echoed off the walls.

The 'Profits people' had never run to them, preferring to take their time and enjoy the glimpses and flinches that Roy made as each foot fall sounded in the room, though they had always quickened when Edward had started laughing or singing. And another thing, they had never been light footed, especially when they had walked over his fingers and limbs, crushing them with the weight that each foot carried.

But there was no gasp or scream of horror witch would surly come from a civilian, if one found them. Nor were there any military commands or shouts of recognition that would follow if it were a military rescue. There were only those light, hurried footfalls, coming ever closer.

Suddenly they stopped, right under the spot from witch Roy hung.

"General Roy mustang sir?"

The voice was female with a heavy Xing accent. It was a soft voice but had an edge of steel behind it.

"Are you here to help them or us?" he tried to keep his voice strong but it cracked and he began to splutter and cough, dry reaching and spitting the vile acid at the booted feet below him.

"Neither." She spoke calmly, as though she had walked through toucher chambers every day of her life. Roy snarled, teeth bared and eyes widened. "I am here to help the military."

Those words rand through his brittle body in waves of relief, when he next spoke his voice was drenched in the emotion, clouding his vision.

"Thank you, help the girl by the wall. Thank you thank you thank you thankyouthankyouthankyou…" his consciousness slipped and he fell effortlessly into a much needed sleep his half prayer half relief infused mantra, fading out as his vision swam black.

The woman jogged over to the far wall to the unconscious blond. She was in bad shape, anyone could see, her leg and hand still wrapped in that wire; cutting of circulation. Her arm cradling her chest as if trying to pull her self together as the nightmares tried to pull her apart. Her hair draped over her face in ragged stands, the dirty greasy mop had been so knotted and matted that it had gone from its previous golden to a dirty brown. Her body flopped sideways half sitting half sliding down the wall, one cheek scraping against the wall as she slipped another few inches towards the ground.

The military had told her to expect the worst, and so this was only slightly horrifying compared to what she had been told to expect. Still, the tiny frame of bones before her looked for all the world to be a stitched up rag doll, pulled apart and stitched up so many times it was hard to see the resemblance to what it once was, now thrown into a corner like a broken toy, left and forgotten by her cruel owner. In-fact she was owned, pronounced by the brands seared into her flesh, shouting things like 'sinner' and 'gods dog' all over her once tanned skin, interrupted by the scars that covered her. They feathered her body, angry and infected, they cut across her chest and left the dragging skin raised and uneven.

The woman reached out to touch a bony shoulder and whipped her hand back as those tortured eyes flashed open and a gaze, fevered and mad, glared up at her.

If looks could kill… the Xing girl thought, the old expression passing through her mind as those awful eyes cut through her soul.

"Your not the profits people." The voice trickled out of her throat in a mumble, the accusation clear even if the voice was not. And for a second the woman thought the young girl was sane, that she had escaped the worst of what those people had done to her.

"No I am with the military." As she spoke softly to the young girl before her. Edward curled into a featle position and began to sob softly.

Then her eyes flashed from beneath her colorless arm, they sharpened and glinted in the morning light, and then the hardened woman knew what it was like to feel terror. Not the physical terror that she tended to fight against, but a terror of the unknown; the unpredictability of another person, instability of not knowing what to do, the terrifying thought of being helpless. She knew Edward wouldn't fight by rules, if she attacked weapons would be useless against her, that glint in her eye told that she no longer treated pain as a physical element. But that wasn't the problem, the younger girl would be defeated easily in her weekend state, it was the fact that the girl wanted death and would not let anything stop her from reaching her goal, no matter how far the journey or how long it took she knew that she would die. She had no fear.

Then Edward laughed, she cackled and squawked from her awkward position. The older woman took a step back, then another as the blond began to uncoil, her limp arm hanging in front of her body and her head bowed over, neck loose as she lifted her body slowly back to the wall. Slowly, ever so slowly her head raised to rest on the wall, her arm dropped to the ground beside her and her leg sprawled out before her.

Her eyes closed for a moment and a deep shudder took over her body as inner turmoil shook her mind.

Her eyes opened. They were dark and bloodshot, resting above sunken cheek bones, crooked nose and parched mouth. The mouth opened.

" Remember remember the fifth of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason why gunpowder, treason

Should ever be forgot..."

The words echoed through the room, empty of even breathing as the haunting words spun. Edward broke the spell, tossing back her head and laughing.

"remember remember not of November

But still plenty of treason and plot

That day you'll remember forever remember

Still should never be forgot!"

Rhyming couplets? Nursery rhymes? What the hell is going on here? The Xing woman thought while watching the scene play out before her very eyes.

"is there reason behind the madness?

Any sanity left to scrounge?

Lurking behind the madness

And the cunning in my eyes?"

Reason behind the madness? A meaning behind the riddle?

"The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown

The lion beat the unicorn all around the town.

Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown;

Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town."

A crown? This is making no sense! A crown? A lion? Unicorn? It's simply the ramblings of a madman! But she knew that there was a slight chance that Edward was trying to convey something through these riddles but what that message was she had no clue.

The Corneal groaned and she was reminded of what she had to do, as quickly as possible without to much jostling she lent down and swung the limp girl over her shoulder the girl barely weighed 20kg and made a minimum fuss at being picked up, the energy seemingly sucked out of her after her alarming performance back in the church. She bolted out the room to where a van was idling on the sidewalk.

"Armstrong! Open the boot will you?" she yelled up the side of the large pick up van.

"Yes Corneal Laking, sir!" there was a soft pop as the vans back door opened, she placed the now struggling girl on one of the camper beds on the floor. Taking some rope from under the bed and quickly fastened the shaking wrist and ankle to the iron bed frame.

She ran back into the church to get Corneal mustang.

* * *

Alex Armstrong sighed they had been sent here on rescue duty to find and aid Corneal Roy mustang and major Edward Elric but to far they had found a total of eight prisoners, three military soldiers of differing rank, and five civilians caught in the cross fire. He stepped down from the cab of the van, rounding the corner and ducking his head around the back door, what he saw there brought a tear to his eye, they flowed over his cheeks as he watched the tiny girl tied the bed thrash and moan. He could see the scars that littered her body, he saw the missing limbs and wondered how she had lost them, through his tear glazed vision he watched as she prattled in riddles to herself, and wished the young girl was the Edward Elric they were searching for.

He sighed and turned away, wiping his eyes delicately –so his eyes wouldn't get puffy and red- he ripped of his shirt and sprinted into the chapel, using all his inherited Armstrong abilities to get to the general and help in what ever way he could, pink sparkles trailing behind.

When he reached the general he found her gazing intently upwards, a look of puzzlement on her face. He glanced up, and then couldn't drag his eyes away. There suspended high above the ground was the man they had been searching for. Corneal Roy mustang, clad only in the old military uniform pants, shredded and torn with filth and caked blood clinging to the threadbare fabric.

* * *

Watcher think?

Did anyone spot those MASIVE clues (theres two) in the plot line? I tried not to make it too obvious so I hope it was hard to spot – I wanted it to be one of those things that people read, think nothing of it, then later think 'oh my god! I really should have gotten that!'

Hope u enjoyed it!

If you want more chapters then review! If I don't get encouraged then not much get done you see?

Check ya later

belledonner


	4. forced beliver, turned beliver

**Chapter 4.**

**Forced believer, turned believer.**

AN: sorry! I am so sorry, I haven't posted in an age! I have been busy with other fics I have started, but I promise I will start getting on the ball again! and sorry its so stort too! the next one will be longer...it shall be epic long.

I also I promise that this will be the last chapter from someone else's point of view besides Edward and Roy. But for those who think it should have been Riza who found them will now find out why it was not she.

Disclaimer; They own the neighbourhood, I just rent the house.

Enjoy!

Xx

Belledonner.

* * *

Roy woke to the smell of blood wafting beneath his nose, that for once was not clogged with dried blood, mucus and crushed cartridge. The air seemed far too cold as it rushed in and out of his lungs, stinging his esophageus and burning his lungs. A strong copper tang of blood and infection saturated his newly revived tastebuds leaving a bitter metallic taste that lingered in his mouth adding to the bile now rising in his throat. His head spun as he strained to sit up against the rope bonds wrapped around his protruding rib cage as well as his bone like wrists and ankles, his head falling back onto the hard pillow beneath him. Wait- what- a pillow?

Yes a hard, flat pillow that barely raised his head from the lumpy, steel framed cot he was currently held too. The rickety cot scarcely held as the tiny room around him shook and jostled, it seemed to be held together by the bonds that secured Roy to the death trap.

The rotting smell was coming from just above his shoulder were his cot was bashing harshly into something metal and sending vibrations through his body, witch he could completely feel now, feel the pain that he knew the numbness had held back and worsened. The blood was gushing through his veins, _too fast_, he thought as his arms shuddered and spasamed by themselves, nerves running raw in the places were the broken skin oozed fresh blood as he strained uselessly against the ropes that bound him and cut into his wrists, digging deeper every time, rubbing harshly against the thin, frail skin, rubbing it raw and peeling away layers of scared flesh and tissue. The muscles not far enough beneath the flesh screaming out with each shudder of fresh blood, burning as they were pumped full of the blood that had been with held. Roys fingernails scraped against the cots frame, attempting to gouge into the metal as another wave of pain washed through his body, barely feeling the pain when one of his fingernails crunched through his skin under the pressure and a knuckle popped and fell slack in the way of his fingers, he didn't even notice when the hard metal gave way to the softer flesh of his own limp finger and his nails began scraping through skin, snapping tendons.

Roy mustang struggled to keep his consciousness, the wave of pain passed, leaving only seconds to gasp another lungful of the fowl air and bite down on the screams as they rose in his throat with the next wave of pain.

His head cracked back on the shaky frame as his back arched against the pain and his bonds, his vision went static black around the edges and he could smell the fresh blood in the air. He felt the adrenalin in his blood thinning and the pain coming back full force to make up for lost time. Roy threw his head back and gritted his teeth to hold back the groans, his head connected again with the harsh frame, but this time he wasn't paying attention, all the pain seemed to fade into the distance as the general saw the cause of the rotting stench that filled the room and turned his empty stomach, he locked eyes on the single foot of the Fullmetal alchemist; saw the shallow rise and fall that accompanied the laboured, wheezing noise.

Then he once again let the numbing blackness claim him and take away his pain with its cold, mind numbing depths; because he knew _his_ Fullmetal was safe, alive and safe beside him. He let their destination fall from his mind in favour of the earlier delusion of being saved; he knew his imaginings wouldn't last long, but if he could have a little happiness he would be content with it to be within his dreams; because nobody rewarded someone who sinned so greatly against god.

* * *

Riza Hawkeye saw the van coming round the corner, saw the heap of rusty junk somehow make it past 60km/ph and motor towards her.

_Emergency, _she thought as the old van passed through the first set of gates guarding the temporary head quarters in Liore. _More civilians?_

Riza did not dare to let the hope that still held spark within her to flame at the sight of the speeding van, her hope had been dashed to pieces too many times for that; each emergency van that had come back had either been filled with lifeless bodies, gibbering lunatics that had lost their mind and half their body while held in the many uncovered toucher chambers that surrounded the city or nothing at all. But she had still managed to keep the spark, that faint glimmer of hope coming from the fact that they had yet to find the generals body nor that of his subordinate, the fullmetal alchemist.

She watched silently as the van rumbled into the compound and swerved towards the medic centre. _Live casualties?_ The hope surged again, but was dashed to pieces as medics began to unload the people inside, Riza could hear the screaming gibberish streaming from the van, could hear the clearly feminine voice, though it was dry and cracked. Another voice equally distorted held the smooth barren tone of a man trying to calm something, the tone suggesting something he cared very much about. _A couple? _The thoughts witch ran through her mind were sluggish now, heavy with disappointment, her meagre shard of hope had been slaughtered once more, knowing as she did that her general would never use such a soft tone to calm anyone, because he would never let someone get that close to his hart to be able to use that tone.

As the days wore on the mummers around the camp were hushed but still active; it wasn't long till Riza noticed something amiss and she eventually heard the rumours that had sprouted about the civilian couple. Apparently they weren't civilians at all, but military, found in an abandoned church that had been used as yet another toucher chamber. One was male, and the vague stories told that his eyes looked like black holes in an empty shell. The female was apparently missing some limbs and blatantly mad, know one dared go to close to her for fear that she might snap the bonds that held her to the cot and attack. Even now, when her limbs were strapped down as well as her torso and head, the doctors were afraid to go near the corner of the hospital she was placed in away from the other patients, they were frightened of the endless insane babble of poetry and rhymes but more so afraid of the man guarding her. The man wouldn't let the doctors anywhere near her unless they came to ease her pain. Apparently in the moments of fierce protection, the mans eyes would fill with anger and passion, in those brief minuets the black, empty holes showed life.

Riza Hawkeye was now convinced that this man in question was not the general she had known, as he would not protect something so fiercely that did not concern him deeply. But she was now determined to fight her way through the mounds of security around the couple in intensive mental care, she needed to see this man who protected something so fiercely, needed to make sure it wasn't her Roy.

* * *

Roy looked over to the body in the cot beside his. He watched the steady rise and fall of the thin chest, watched eyes flicker sightlessly beneath eyelids, watched as the blond sprouted gibberish through parted spilt and swollen lips.

He watched, and yet did not let himself believe he had been saved. Because this was worse than toucher, worse than suffering at the hands of a man woman, worse; because at least then, when they had been held captive, Edward had showed life in her screams and struggles. Now she showed nothing.

This was worse than a thousand years of endless pain.

Edward hadn't woken up.


	5. before the dawn

**Before the dawn.**

chapter something...

AN; hello again! i hope everyone is enjoying the slow plot i have set out so far? well if you havent then i am rather happy to say the plot is snowballing out of my controle, and will start to pick up round about now...

Disclaimer: they own the neighborhood, i just rent the house.

Edward's eyes flickered beneath bruised and heavy lids, his lips forming words but his mouth sprouting incoherent gibberish. He slept on.

He dreamed, or more, he _remembered_.

…

_Edward smirked._

_Gwyther glowered._

"_Is that all you've got?" Ed said around the loose tooth rolling through his mouth leaking blood from its original place, like so many other places he had cut. He spat the bloody glob at her, but she didn't even flinch as the streaked spit fell on her too short dress, seeping through the silver material and staining it red._

"_No, of course not, baby." She crooned, disappearing from his line of sight for a moment before returning with a large, heavy looking object held loosely in her hand._

"_And just what are you going to do with _**that**_?" Ed asked, his voice leering and snide, taunting her. And she _**always**_ fell for the bait, always concentrated on him. Roy was always an afterthought._

"This." She said simply, pointing at the surrounding ground he was sprawled across, still panting. The ring on her finger flashed red, coating the dank surrounding area and plunging them into an unhealthy glow that turned their skin sickly pale yellow and the fresh blood that coated the surfaces a deathly black. Not that there was anything healthy about the suffocating, fetid place to begin with. At the silent command ropes sprung from the floor, binding his body and leg securely to the rotted blood-soaked wood against Edwards's struggles and protests.

_A rope gagged his mouth, stopping him from screaming all the insults and ear splitting screeches running through his mind. She came closer, pinning his arm with one hand as she knelt beside him, spreading his fingers wide and lifting the iron object aloft._

_The hammer came down hard with a sickening crunch of bone and tear of flesh, spreading his skin unnaturally wide with its force as the shattered bone shards pierced through his skin and left him withering and chocking against his gag. The pressure turned his skin instantly purple, bleeding profusely form where the skin broke through with bone splinters and let the internal bleeding surface and flow across the floor, disrupted only by the waves and ripples across its sticky surface caused by the bone breaking shudders that wreaked his body and sent the blood skimming across the wood and splattering against the walls, staining the silver dress again and splattering against white blond hair above him._

_Again the hammer came down, now on one of his knuckles, shattering the bones into a thousand pieces and sending them through his skin, shock waves of pain vibrating through his body and causing his stomach to heave and force bile from his bloodied mouth._

_She grinned above him, blood leaking black from between her teeth from where Edward had managed a land a flailing mark. _

_Again and again the hammer arched down, each time Edward struggled and choked against his bindings as pain wreaked his body and forced him into shaking fits that coughed blood from his lungs and grated vile acid against his throat. The burnt sole of his foot long forgotten against the newest bout of crushing pain._

_He would have long since succumbed to the daily pain; he had no doubts; except that she was more interested in his pain than the answers he could produce. And he couldn't give in; Roy was literally hanging as an incentive before him. He was far too stubborn for that, and his will had been anything but weakened. Even through all the pain. So much pain._

_His whole hand was now only a bloodied heap of motionless flesh on the end of his wrist, the excruciating pain wreaked up and down his arm, each of his nerves burning, adrenalin forcing his eyes wide as shocks ran rampant through his shaking body._

_Before this, Edward had rationalised the pain, comparing it to the excruciating feeling to attachment of automail ports, the burn and jar of nerve ends being shocked by currents of the new automail. But this, _**this**_ was on a completely new level of pain; one to which automail paled in comparison, _**there was no comparison**_. This was a crippling, bone shattering pain that surged through his body in a constant torrent of agony. And for the first time since being brought here he would have screamed, screamed his already cracked and raw throat horse and bloody. If it weren't for the gag cutting into his mouth and suffocating him, he would have._

_It hurt so much it was unbearable. But still, she would not allow him to succumb to the darkness that called to him, the dark that promised an escape from the pain ever present in his body, singing to his blood and calling him to temptation. No, she wanted him to feel every twinge as she destroyed his hand to a useless lump of skin and shocked nerves, she wanted to watch his tortured expressions as he writhed beneath her, wanted to giggle and laugh as he coughed blood and bile to his own face, drowning in the fluids as he could not dispel them from his covered mouth. _

_But he could not dwell on such thoughts, he needed to prepare for the next round of pain as the adrenalin thinned in his veins under the force. But there was nothing he could do to prepare himself, not against a pain of such crippling magnitude._

_Gwyther picked up his had almost gently, sending Ed into the withering mass of pain and horror once more, she watched in pure delight as he bit through his own lip in his struggle, the blood soaking his gag and dribbling down his unprotected throat, drowning his taste buds with the all too familiar metallic flavour of copper and rust. She carefully grasped his boneless fingers, her blood mixing with his as his own bone shards pierced her flesh as she gripped them suddenly hard, slowly bending and twisting them, _**curling**_ them slowly –ever so slowly- unnaturally backwards to slump pathetically on the top of his wrist, Edward arched up in pain against his bindings, growling into his gag and drooling thin, milky vomit down his chin, eyes rolling back in his head._

_Everything went blissfully black, though only for a moment of peace before a flash of blinding red broke through the dark and brought back the pain._

"_The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown_

_The lion beat the unicorn all around the town._

_Some gave them white bread, and some gave them brown;_

_Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town." Edward mumbled, a slightly manic rush to his voice sounding estranged even to his own ears. His mouth spilling forth the words that could possibly mean the fall of everything he would die to protect, and surely his own life with them. But he said them anyway, the verbal riddle tumbling through his split lips without his brains awareness. He felt strange, like nothing could touch him, detached from his surroundings. And though he felt as though his mind were on autopilot, there was something keeping him there, making him suffer the pain that washed through his body._

"_What the fuck are you talking about, baby?" Gwyther asked as she crushed his mutilated hand harder._

_Edward just laughed as blackness began to fringe his sight once more; his too dark golden eyes and dry, painfully scratchy cackle strangely void of their usually fire. _

"_My, my, baby seems like no one, not even you, can hold out forever. And what a shame, my next little experiment is likely too kill you if you're acting like this already." She tisked with no sympathy evident in he child-like tone._

_And nothing _**could**_ touch him; he was already gone._

_At least that's what he thought. But he was wrong:_

It's always darkest before the dawn.

And he came to realize that in his life, everything could get darker.

…

His eyes fluttered in panic beneath their unopened lids, his mind drowning in repressed memories, trying to surface from the deep, black pool of his subconscious.

But his sanity was too week, his will party broken and not strong enough for the task. So he sunk, his torn mind slipping through layers of his subconscious, deeper into the unnatural sleep that cocooned him.

* * *

­

Roy growled, no, he snarled.

The man still walked forward, though his heavy booted steps fell now more timidly on the shadowy ground. In the wardens hand was a syringe.

He took another step forward and Roy moved to crouch low on his cot, wound tight to strike.

Roy snapped.

This man is not supposed to come any closer. He has to stop moving. He would hurt my Edward, he can't hurt her, and he wont hurt her, ever! Too much pain too much pain! Stop moving!

Roy snarled again as the man took another step towards Edward, syringe outreached as if to pierce the delicate skin of a pale neck that lay so still, almost lifeless on the shallow cot.

Roy lunged, the frail cot collapsing with the momentum as Roy tumbled through the air towards the warden's chest. There was a heavy thump as they both sprawled against the hard earth packed floor, the warden backed up, pushing himself up against the far wall. But Roy was too far-gone, and the defenceless warden could tell, the look in his eyes told of nothing good, or more precisely, the fact that there was _nothing_ in those eyes.

Roy stumbled forward again, not caring to notice the bandages on his leg coming undone, spilling across the floor by his legs and tangling at his feet, falling away and revealing the unhealed, blistered and weeping flesh beneath; were Gwyther had rubbed glass into the wound after slicing open his calf muscle, dousing it in petroleum and setting it aflame.

His eyes were dark and lifeless, empty except for the fury that bubbled under his flesh and itched at his fingers. The cowering man before him scrabbled against the ground, trying to find an exit. He wasn't even a man, still a boy unprepared for what he would see in life, puppy fat still lingering around his chin, under eyes that looked so terrified, so innocent, so naive, so _ignorant_.

Life was never fair; it was a bitch. It took and took and took, until there was nothing left to take, and even after all that it would take your life, because after all the shit it has given in return for the good it had taken, you would gladly give up your soul and become non-existent. Because when you're dead you cant hurt anymore, there is no pain to suffer through, there's nothing left to take, and nothing left to give. It was an escape worth more than a life, an escape Roy would kill for the chance to get, but he would not let himself give the last thing he had left too give. He still had _Ed_.

But it _hurt._

It hurt so much to go on. There was no peace of mind, no glimmer of love. Not even a flicker of hope was left. It hurt to become aware, so Roy had shut down, become barely an empty shell to cope, but Edward didn't wake up and he was forced to wake up. And it _hurt_

Equivalent exchange. A lie amongst truths, but if you believe in something it is no longer a lie. It becomes your life.

Under his hands he felt the break, heard the brittle snap, the gurgled moan to nothingness. It broke through the haze that had gathered on his mind; the small snap, like a shard of mirror slicing through the oozing black his mind had become, illuminating all the bitter ugliness of his surroundings. He hadn't truly felt anything since he came here, and awareness flooded his senses, everything shockingly clear, colours blindingly bright against his eyes; blood red contrasting sharply against white, even whiter still was the flesh beneath his own from where the blood had been drawn, from the skin he had broke through with jagged fingernails in their strain against the limp flesh pressed in an impossible angle to the wall, pale blond hair spilling across the floor beneath, soaking in the dribble of blood that ran through the grooves in Roys fingers.

He needed to get out of here before they found what he had done. He needed to get Ed away so she could heal. They need to go, now.

He stared numbly at his stained fingers for a few moments after dropping the slack and brittle neck to the floor. He felt nothing, no remorse for what he had just done. It was simply a necessity, but still, he couldn't drag his eyes away from the still warm blood that glistened duly on his palms.

* * *

Slowly the moments turned to minuets, minuets to hours, hours themselves barely a moment in Roys mind until no concept of time remained, he could have sat there for hours, or only seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Simply staring sightlessly at the rust coloured blood long since dried on his hands. He shook himself awake, his eyes still not completely leaving his marred palms.

A question came to mind, one as fragile and delicate as his mind set; _what have I done?_

Roy shuddered, clasping his hands together till they hurt with tension and his own fresh blood spilt from the gashes his fingernails had made and mingled with the sweat beading in his pores, soaking the caked brown blood and turning it a gluggy paste.

He hastily whipped his hands across his white hospital pants that were rolled up to his knees for better access to his wounds.

Again he shuddered, his eyes darted back and forth hastily. _Paranoia _a small voice said, voicing Roy's fears; but they were unfounded, no one had entered the room while his mind was otherwise…occupied. He let out a gust of air, slumping to the ground and scrubbing his hands furiously on the floor, as though to rid them of the stains he had put there by dry washing them in the pool of sticky congealed blood he had knelt in.

_What broke my trance?_

In the corner of his eye he saw a vague flicker, like the tiny glow from the lamp in the hallway off glass, the reflection shimmering blue against the roof in the pitch darkness of the ward.

Roy scabbled back, the person had seen him, and of that there was no doubt. But what had they seen? It did not look as if they had called for help, nor that they were frightened. The silhouetted figure in the double doorway seemed to stand stock-still, as though afraid to move and cause a noise that would disrupt him. But that wasn't right, was it?

Deep in the shadows by Edwards's bed, hearing the subtle rise and fall of her breath that accompanied the murmurs beneath the breath, here he felt safe. But Edward wouldn't be safe, not if this person called for help, not if they tried to stop them.

A moment passed without the figure moving, and with a deep breath Roy began to struggle with the leather straps that tied Edward to the cot, fingers fumbling clumsily in their hast to be gone of this place.

One strap, two strap, three strap, four. They all fell lose under the rough yanking and Edward rose a little, chest rising with the lack of constriction, voice ever murmuring. Never quiet, even now.

"Gold, black… don't… any thing…the lion…they were after…Al…sorry, sorry, so sorry…cant tell…plum pudding...kitty-corn… sliver, red…want." the raw mumblings were no different than they had always been, but now mustang could hear them, Edward cradled in his arms, so gently against his chest, her mouth babbling into his shoulder as he lifted her on shaking legs, arms burning at the sudden strain, but he would carry this burden as far as he was needed to, to the ends of the earth and down to hell.

With quick, long strides he was across the room, ignoring the limp that had started from the cut calf muscle not yet healed, with the outstretched fingers of one hand Roy hurriedly undid the simple window clasp, throwing the pane wide so it landed with a muffled thumped against the wood of the outside building.

The window overlooked a small courtyard empty save a stone bench and a small pond in the centre of the dusty barren tiles, Roy gazed out over the area in search of threats, but saw none in the silvery light of the crescent moon that hung low and pale in the midnight sky. The were on the first floor of a two story building that was quite obviously put together by an alchemist in great haste, none of the grounding was flat, and by the looks of it, the windows were practically carved out of the wood that was seamlessly melded with the roof, roots uplifting the uneven pavers in the courtyard the only evidence that this small building was once a cluster of trees.

With some struggle he manuvered himself and the blond in his arms out over the small window ledge and out onto the cracked pavers and cold desert breeze. He glanced around again, a sense of foreboding niggling at his thoughts as he spun looking for an exit to the camp. There were three paths running off in different directions, one to the south, one east, and one west. To the north there was only a chain link fence before the great expanse of shimmering empty desert.

He sprinted towards the fence, kicking the bottom until he found a weak spot, dropped to his knees and laid Edward to the ground before grappling with the semi buried fence end and finally pulling the half torn metal wire up a sufficient amount to let them pass through. Then dropped the ground and wormed his way under, pulling Ed through after him.

He stood shakily, picking Edward up again and cradling her gently once more, he stared off into the open desert for a moment longer before running into its sandy depths. Away from the threats that camp had represented, away from those people who looked at them as if they were no longer humans. Away from the fear and pain. He ran without a second glance back.

He ran.

* * *

From the window Riza could see the receding figure of her general as he ran into the endless desert.

It was more than a shock to see him, after all this time of thinking him dead, and then for her first glance of him to be sitting in a drying pool of blood as he stared as though hypnotized by his bloodied hands that had killed the youth who lay unmoving on the ground beside him.

In that moment Riza had never seen her general so _broken_ and it truly scared her, more than she would ever let on. And she couldn't stand the thought of Roys mind that now seemed so broken from what was once so strong. She had gone there against orders with an ambition to see this animalistic man who protected the one he loved so fiercely, and she had seen Roy, protecting the person he loved. And she could not hate him for that.

She had known if the military found out about the doctor's death, Mustang would be committed to an asylum, or executed before trial, but after seeing him she could not let that happen, she had turned to leave, to forget this ever happened and tell no one about what she had seen because even in his fragile state Roy would know not to stay here, but something had stoped her as she turned, she froze, her ears picking up on the faint mutterings from the cot in the far corner. Mutterings in a straggly familiar voice, mumbling chaotic nonsense that scared her. She knew what the rambling meant, she knew and she was terrified.

She wasn't quit sure why she froze, but she did, against her better soldier instincts screaming at her to walk away and never turn back. The voice was just to compelling as it whispered coded riddles.

It might be the last time she would ever see them, so she waited till Roy had taken the limp figure from her bed and carried her from the window out to the fence. Then walked to the window to gaze out at the man she loved holding the woman who held secrets she had no right to have even heard in the first place.

"Goodbye," she whispered into the dark night air, wishing Roy would turn and smirk at her in _that _way, the smirk that showed how confident he was and promised that he would pull of the impossible once again and come back to her.

_But not this time,_ she though with a sigh. _That love belongs to whomever it is he holds so closely in his arms. They don't deserve him, but then again, who dose?_

But for a second before they faded completely into the dark, she could have sworn she saw the moonlight shine against something gold. A shade she had only ever seen once in her life.

In coming here she had disobeyed a direct order from a superior officer, for letting them escape she was obeying a rather compelling _request_.

Guilt rose and she fell to her knees.

_What the hell have I done?_

* * *

like it? reveiw it!! if i dont get any responce, i wont update!

xx

Belledonner


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